Love At First Sight
by ToryTigress92
Summary: A Carlisle/Esme fanfic. Story of their first meeting, when Esme is dying and Carlisle decides to change her. May turn into a longer story, actually it probably will. Rated M for later chapters, just in case.
1. Chapter 1

Love At First Sight

_This is the story of Carlisle and Esme, of how they met and their subsequent relationship. May be a one shot, or I may develop it into a longer story, anyway so please R&R!_

* * *

_Chicago, Illinois 1939_

Dr Carlisle Cullen strode down the main wing of Chicago General, his white medical coat flapping around his strong legs. His gaze fell on the numerous empty beds, the few patients sleeping soundly, undisturbed by ailment. Seeing the ward so empty, he heaved a satisfied breath of relief. Nothing was more satisfying to a doctor than an empty ward; not because it meant less work, but because it meant there were less sick or ailing people in the world.

In all his long years of life, Carlisle had never found any greater satisfaction than seeing his patients return to health and happiness, a penance for his state of existence. His mind drifted to his 'son', Edward, right now awaiting his return at their home on the outskirts of the city. He was so restless, so dissatisfied with his existence, always searching for something. Something unattainable and unknown. And Carlisle knew how he felt. He himself had been searching for that elusive 'something' for centuries…

"Dr Cullen?" a voice behind Carlisle snapped him out of his reverie, his blond hair floating ethereally on the breeze as he turned.

"Yes?" he asked, glancing at the intern scurrying up the ward towards him. His golden eyes glittered as the scent of fresh blood rose upon the air, somewhere far in the distance.

"We have an emergency. An attempted suicide, by all accounts. Found at the bottom of a cliff…pretty badly broken up, we need you down in the emergency department right away," the intern sputtered out, clearly out of breath. Carlisle was out the doors of the ward before he finished speaking.

* * *

"What do we have here?" he asked the moment he barged through the doors of the emergency room, remembering at the last moment to slow his speed, so he didn't take the doors off their hinges and out the windows at the other end of the room.

Several other doctors were swarming around a bed in the middle of the room, the clinical white walls reflecting the harsh light of the theatre lamps. Carlisle winced, to his evolved senses the light was almost painful. The sea of medical professionals parted to reveal a bloody form lying on a bed. As he neared, his stride slowed, stuttering almost to a halt, the scent of blood almost overpowering, even to his iron wrought willpower.

As he approached, slower now, the bloody remains became the form of a woman, barely alive. But Carlisle could hear her heartbeat, slow, weak, and barely discernible beneath the thunder of the others' heartbeats, but still there.

"Threw herself off a cliff, it seems. A widow just lost her baby in a miscarriage, no other family to speak of. Right we'll need to…." the voices of the other doctors faded into silence as Carlisle saw the woman's face clearly, lacerated though it was.

* * *

The woman's face was like the finest peach silk, where it was unmarred by the cuts and scrape from her fall, her hair lay lank and bloodied from a head wound, on the pillow, yet Carlisle could see it was a rich caramel colour, no doubt smooth as satin when clean.

Her long graceful arms, though bent at odd angles, lay on the sheet their purity sullied by red gashes and purple bruises flowering everywhere. His gaze swept lower, the rest of her body hidden by the sheet. She was so beautiful, if it weren't for the red blood spilling from her wounds, he would have sworn she was a vampire. His fingers tremblingly traced the line of her lips, bending over her, examining the extent of her injuries.

* * *

"…to the morgue," the words pounded into his brain, ripping him from his fascination.

"Morgue? But she's not dead!" he exclaimed incredulously, forgetting they could not hear her heartbeat, as he could. The other doctors looked at him pityingly.

"Carlisle, she's a bag of bones. There's no heartbeat, no flicker of life. She's dead," one of them contradicted him bluntly, already dismissing her from his mind. Carlisle felt an uncharacteristic rage fill him, he wanted to slam that patronizing oaf into the wall and pulverize him. But years of enduring the bloodlust had taught him self-control. He reined his rage in, controlled it, tempered it until it dimmed, tamed for the time being.

Two assistants appeared to wheel the bed from beneath his hands, as the fury rose again. He clenched his fist, swinging around to confront the doctor who had spoken.

"Did you even try to revive her?" he asked violently, running his hands through his hair against the urge to throttle the man. The doctor sniffed contemptuously; clearly thinking Carlisle was overreacting to the whole situation.

"Of course we did, but there was little point. She fell over thirty feet, there was no way she could've survived. Her spine was broken for a start. For God's sake, Carlisle get a grip. She's just one more Jane Doe," he turned away, taking a clipboard from a neighbouring doctor and marching out of the emergency room. Carlisle watched him go, thankful he was out of reach, before he turned and followed the trolley to the morgue.

* * *

In the morgue, they had laid out the Jane Doe on a bed, washing her wounds so they all but disappeared, the limbs set gently back to their natural angles, her hair washed and dry, the wound covered by the silken waves. They had dressed her in a buttoned-up-to-the-neck gown, her torn and wrecked clothes lying beside her, like so much lost baggage waiting to be claimed.

Carlisle sat down beside her, still hearing her faint heartbeat in the silence of the morgue, the morgue techies leaving him alone, no doubt wondering if he was mad. He wondered if he was, clinging to this unknown woman's life, determined never to let go. He glanced at his watch; it was ten to midnight, his shift had ended and Edward would be expecting him at home. But he couldn't leave, couldn't unfreeze himself from her side.

He sat gazing at her pure, beautiful face, still so much warmer and darker than his own. Her mouth was slightly open, the thunder of her heartbeat still in his ears, he bent his head forward and placed his cheek against her lips. The tiniest whisper of cold breath from her dead lips, he jumped, tearing his face from hers. Beneath his hands, her chest rose and fell a tiny amount. Barely daring to hope, he leaned forward and spoke clearly.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

The woman's eyes snapped open, their sparkling depths clouded by great pain. They were a chocolate brown, as rich as her hair. He stroked it calmingly, trying to avoid her struggling, injuring herself more. Her heartbeat was still weak, already fading.

It would not be long now before she succumbed to death; she was completely paralysed, her lifeblood drained away, her soft limbs broken beyond repair. Pity welled, as well as relief, relief that he at least had not abandoned her. She clearly couldn't speak, and this last burst of energy could be a sign of the end.

An idea occurred to him, one he heard of doctors using with paralysed patients to test awareness.

"Can you understand me? Blink if you can," he encouraged her, taking her hand and squeezing it, careful of the cuts on it. A tiny flicker of an eyelid, and he smiled reassuringly. A single tear dripped from her eye, like a single twinkling diamond in the moonlight streaming in through the window. He touched it, wiping it away, and a strange feeling welled through his being.

"Don't be afraid. I won't leave you," his whole body was racked with helplessness. He could do nothing for this broken, beautiful butterfly, still so young, although he could now see she was, biologically speaking, a few years older than he.

"You enjoy talkin' to dead people or wha'?" a hoarse voice behind him murmured. Carlisle turned his head to see a youthful sprig he knew well, Harry.

"Still here, Harry?" he asked jovially, hiding his sadness.

"Yeah," he replied sullenly. He came to stand behind Carlisle, looking over his shoulder. "Aye, she's a pretty one, alright. Heard about your little scene in t'emergency room," he continued, probing for gossip. At Carlisle's silence, he continued doggedly, "never known you to get this attached, Carlisle. What's so special 'bout this one?" he asked. Carlisle shifted to face him.

"I don't know," he replied, before he turned back to his silent vigil.

"Look on your face a minute ago, looked like you were in love with her or somefink," Harry remarked as he stumped out of the door. Carlisle's eyes bored into his back, startled at the comment. Harry continued to march away, unaware of Carlisle's surprise.

* * *

Carlisle turned back to his patient, her eyes open and still aware, still alive. He looked into those beautiful, rich brown eyes, so full of pain, unable to give voice to her emotions. What was it they had said? She threw herself from a cliff? She had wanted to die….

He felt her death rattle, her breathing slowing, her heartbeat almost gone when he stroked her cheek and whispered, "I will not let you die,"

A strange recklessness had filled him, one that centuries of survival ought to have dispelled but it reared its head, like a newborn, unbelievably strong. In that single moment, when he met the eyes of that beautiful, broken woman, he knew why she was different, knew why he couldn't stand back and let her die. She may have been beyond mortal help, but not immortal help. But should he?

He and Edward had just moved back to Chicago after an absence of twenty years, if he turned her, they would have to migrate again pretty soon. Could he uproot Edward again? But, in all conscience, could he let this woman who had snared his heart die?

It wasn't just his conscience that rebelled against the thought, his poor deadened heart, his shrivelled soul rejected the idea with a vehemence that had Carlisle standing in a flash and striding to the window.

He stared into the distance, into the smog-filled city of Chicago, bright lights twinkling like so many stars that sat upon the Earth. He turned his head and watched the pale, glowing form on the mortuary bed, a strange longing filling his body. He walked back, slower now, and sat on the bed, taking her hand again. He took a deep, although unnecessary breath, before he whispered in her ear, hoping she could still hear him.

"Do you want to die? Blink if you don't," he waited, every muscle tensed, breath baited. Slowly he saw a flicker of an eyelid and satisfaction flared through him, glad that she was allowing him to save her. Her eyes followed him, her heartbeat weak and erratic, as slowly, he reached out one hand and began to undo the buttons of her gown, drawing the two halves apart so they bared her neck and collarbone. Her eyes were burning with pain and sadness, desperation in their intense depths. Carlisle could feel himself drowning in them as he lowered his mouth to her neck and whispered, pleadingly, "Forgive me…"

He bit down.


	2. Chapter 2

Love At First Sight- Chapter 2

* * *

Esme was lost in a dream, her mind trapped in a morass of memory.

She was sixteen again, lying in a hospital bed after a fall from the tree in her garden, her arm in a sling. A blonde, golden-eyed doctor, as golden as an Apollo, sat beside her, a clipboard in his hands, eyes twinkling as they talked over her injury.

She remembered the flutter of consciousness that had crept over her skin, distracting her from the pain, making her blush and lower her eyes from the kind, gentle doctor. When he had examined her arm, his touch had been so gentle, so cautious; she had been ashamed of her feelings. She was sixteen, and he was no doubt in his mid-twenties, for heaven's sake! But his face had haunted her for a long time, with those ancient all-seeing eyes.

How could the face of an angel not haunt a mortal? He had been her first love, after that one encounter, despite the fact she never saw him again.

Until a flare of mind-numbing pain interrupted her daydream, making her want to arch her body away from the pain. Her eyes shot open, panic enfolding her when she found she could not move. It felt like a ten-tonne weight was lying on top of her limbs, restraining them so thoroughly she could not move them even a little. She was paralysed. The fear rose, making her want to vomit, until she met the eyes of the man leaning over her. She wanted to gasp, for those golden eyes, those all-seeing beautiful golden eyes, were above her, looking down into her own with such pain and helplessness, that for a moment her own pain lessened, and she would have tried to comfort him, her heart wrenched from its personal agony.

It was her doctor, the kind and gentle one from that hospital in Wisconsin!

She tried to speak, but found her tongue heavy, unable to converse. She couldn't even scream as the pain heightened once more, ripping through the slight shield her angel's eyes had granted her. She silently screamed, a single tear escaping from her eye, trailing down her cheek. She became aware of a throbbing in her head, merely adding to the fiery torment of her body. She felt so weak, so helpless.

To her amazement, she heard her angel talk to her, asking her if she could understand him. Panic filled her, how could she let him know she understood him, but then she heard the second part. She blinked, the action sending tremors of all-consuming pain through her body, tensing deadened muscles. She felt his soft whisper in her ear, his hesitant fingers on her cheek; bringing back memories of their brief encounter in the summer of her sixteenth year. Suddenly he disappeared, and she could not hear where he had gone. He had abandoned her, left her for dead. When she had stood on that cliff top, the desire to join her darling boy had been too strong, the desire to escape this mad world, with all its pain and lies, too irresistible.

Now the one reason that had anchored her to this world had left her also. Desolation filled her, sucking at her strength, her tenuous hold to the living. She began to slip away, the pain ebbing and rising in torturous intervals. Please stop, please just take me, she pleaded with the deaf air, wanting to scream but unable to do more than flutter her lids shut. Darkness encompassed her being, until she heard footsteps by her head once more. He hadn't left her! Her angel was still with her, he would stay by her side until she died. She knew there was nothing to stop that now. She had taken her own life; she had nothing to live for, and she could only hope she would be reunited with her little boy.

The passion of her love filled her spirit, buoying it, lifting it from the desolate gutter it had languished in since that foolish day, when she had married. Her mind flinched away from those memories, away from the beatings, the drunken arguments, and the emotional anguish. She would not remember them when she was with her angel, so close to death. She felt his hand around her fingers, and ached to squeeze them comfortingly, seeing the helplessness in his eyes. Did he recognize her? Did he remember? She wished she could remind him, but she was rendered mute, unable to thank this godly man for staying by her side. The pain still remained but ebbing as her body succumbed to death, slowly her consciousness followed, dropping into a dark tunnel.

Esme was barely aware of him leaving her side again; of him striding back to her side, kneeling beside her but the feel of his hand on hers brought her back to the living world for a moment, although she knew it was not for long. Regret filled her, how she wished she could speak! Her eyes met his and she saw the longing as well as another emotion in there, coupled with the desperation. A dormant devotion…. Desperation to live blazed through her. Here was a man she might love, if she had time left to live. She felt his cold breath on her skin as he bent his mouth to her ear.

She would have shivered, if she could. No mortal man possessed breath that cold! It was like ice crawling over her skin, despite the lack of feeling left in the mutilated organ. The pain peaked, and the desperation waxed stronger.

* * *

"Do you want to live? Blink if you do," he whispered a strange pleading in his voice. He wanted to save her, wanted her to live, oh so desperately. She managed to find the strength left for one more blink, the pain driving her insane. Oh God, please hurry, she silently begged him. She didn't know what he could do to bring her back from the brink of death but she sensed he was the one man who could.

Esme followed him with her eyes, puzzled when he undid and folded back the gown they had dressed her in. What was he going to do? Fear and relief blazed through her being, as fiery as the pain of her wounds when he bent his head to her neck, his mouth against her skin, and she felt the sharp pressure of sharp teeth against her.

"Forgive me…"

* * *

Esme just had time to register the whisper, the inherent plea before those sharp teeth sheared into her flesh, the little blood left in her body rushing into his mouth. She felt herself spasm before, with a silent scream, she blacked out.

* * *

Carlisle lifted his head from the body in front of him, pausing only to lick his tongue up the incisions, sealing the venom of his teeth within her body. There was nothing more he could do for her. He stood, wiped his mouth, and quickly draped the sheet over her body. He bent and kissed her forehead gently, whispering quietly.

"I'll be back," with that he pulled the sheet over her head, turned and left the morgue. He passed Harry on the way out, just locking up for the night. Good, when he returned to retrieve the woman, it would be easier if it seemed she was stolen from the morgue. But first he needed to return to Edward and inform him of his spur-of-the-moment decision and prepare for her arrival. He hoped Edward wouldn't make too much of a fuss. Urgency filled him; he quickened his pace, barely stopping to get into his car before he drove into the night, and home.

* * *

Edward Cullen paced in his room, waiting impatiently for his 'father', Carlisle, to return home. His shift had ended ten minutes ago, where was he? Edward ran his fingers through his short red-blond hair, agitation emanating from him in waves. After several tense minutes, he heard the rumble of the car engine as it stopped outside the large, secluded red-brick building they called home.

"Carlisle?" he called, softly, not needing to raise his voice above a whisper. Carlisle would hear him easily enough. A mere second later, Carlisle burst through the door, and Edward knew something was wrong. Carlisle's hair was completely messed up, as though he had been running his fingers through it in agitation, his breathing accelerated, and his movements were quick and jerky.

"Edward, I need you to get our survival kits ready, just in case. And make up a third one, won't you? We may need to leave Illinois very soon," he instructed, already heading up the stairs to his room to change. He only had a short time before the woman's body would have regenerated enough to start screaming. And he didn't need that. Edward stared at him, alarm racing through his eyes. He could see only too well Carlisle's thoughts, the image of the bloodied, but beautiful woman in his mind.

"Oh Carlisle, you didn't…?" Edward asked unnecessarily, despite already knowing the answer to his question. Carlisle had created another vampire, and their lives were about to be uprooted again. Edward felt the anger course through him, before resignation flared, hearing Carlisle's thoughts. The woman had been dying? Just like him, then. His mind floated back 39 years, to that hellish day in the ward, Carlisle sat beside his bedside, those golden eyes seeing all too clearly into his soul. He shook his head, shaking those thoughts away and walked into the basement.

Carlisle could tell his son was annoyed with him, for uprooting them all again, but he had needed to do this, had needed to save that woman's life. He only hoped Edward would be able to understand from his thoughts. His mind once again ran over the events in the morgue, wincing as they rose graphically to mind. God, he hoped they would make it in time.

* * *

"Of course we will," Edward appeared by his elbow, reassuring him, one hand on his shoulder.

"I really hate it when you do that," Carlisle replied affectionately, a small smile lifting his mouth. "It's going to be difficult, with a newborn in the house. I am going to need all of your help, Edward," he continued, shrugging into the dark coat, buttoning it to the neck, tucking a black scarf into his shirt. He always wore scarves and high-necked shirts. Silly though it was, the preference always helped him feel less vulnerable, hiding the place where he was turned. He turned to see Edward already in dark clothing, the survival bags slung over his shoulder.

"You know I will, Carlisle," with that simple promise, they turned and glided down the stairs into the car.

* * *

Esme was burning, her entire body coursing with flame, her veins screaming in protest. She could feel the fiery poison within changing her, healing her wounds, the broken bones reforming, the lacerations closing over, new skin covering the violations to her skin.

She was dimly aware of something lying upon her, cool and utter agony to her newly sensitive skin. She wanted to scream, she wanted to tear the thing covering her into pieces, but her limbs were still held down with leaden weights. Even her mouth was still mute, so no release there. She knew her angel had left her, abandoned her, perhaps believing her dead.

She did not know what he had done to her only that slowly, she was coming back to life. Her body was healing itself; were it not for the pain, she would have cried with joy. Her eyes snapped open, and realised the thing covering her was a sheet, draped over her still body. No doubt they believed her dead. She tried to move, but the pain would not allow her that, yet it would not allow her the sweet release of unconsciousness either. It was driving her truly insane, even more than the pain of her injuries had.

Coherent thought had long ago been blotted out, and Esme could only wait and hope the agony would fade eventually. Suddenly she was aware of the sheet being lifted away, and the golden, inhuman eyes of her angel returned, sending sharp spikes of relief, piercing through the morass of agony engulfing her body. She wanted to cry with relief and joy; her saviour had returned, and all would be well. She heard his soft whisper in her ear, his lips brushing over her forehead.

"Don't be afraid. We've come to take you somewhere safe,"

We? Esme suddenly realised there was another beside her doctor, a young seventeen year old boy, but this one possessed the same golden eyes and impossibly graceful gestures as her angel. This one came to her side and touched her forehead gently, sympathy in the set of his handsome features.

"Try to rest. I know the pain makes it impossible, but you are safe now," He promised her, before turning to his companion.

"Carlisle, we must hurry. The night-warden will be on his rounds soon," he admonished, before moving out of her sightline. Carlisle brusquely nodded, pulled the sheet back completely and lifted Esme effortlessly into his arms. A small gasp of pain escaped her lips, she nearly blacked out. His hands stroked soothingly on her back, mouth hushing her.

"I know it is difficult but, please, you must stay as quiet as possible," he told her, apologetically. Esme struggled, the pain demanding she give voice to it, although like her mother had always said, crying never made things better.

"Carlisle!" the boy's warning shout had Carlisle spinning around, seeing the shadow of the night warden coming closer to the morgue. He looked around frantically for a decoy body to use, turning to see Edward already laying one down, hastily pulling the sheet over the corpse. He nodded to Carlisle before disappearing into the shadows; Carlisle retreated to the shadows on the other side of the doors, and waited.

The guard shouldered his way through the door, peering around cautiously, slightly nervous as though he wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run. Carlisle waited, poised to dash through the door at the first opportunity, his breathing accelerated though silent. The guard turned away completely, and Carlisle grabbed his chance.

* * *

He sprinted through the door, a flash of gold in the night. He could feel Edward behind him, both of them running silently down the corridor, the weightless form of his Jane Doe in his arms. The rest of the hospital was deserted, the nurses at their stations, the doctors in their offices or in their homes so they encountered no further dangers. The small space reserved for the doctor's cars was shrouded in shadow, the glimmer of Esme's gown the only sign anyone was out in the chilly night. They bundled her into the back of the antique Bentley, Edward taking the wheel, whilst Carlisle remained in the back, hands soothingly stroking Esme's hair, when she began to squirm, the pain becoming unbearable, but still fighting down the screams.

The lights of the city flashed past, as moans began to break free from her mouth, movement returning to her healing body. She clutched Carlisle's hand desperately, seeking comfort in her delirium. He could hear her heartbeat, vital now, as fast as a horse's.

"We're nearly there," he whispered, noting with relief the trees flashing past the window as Edward coaxed all he could from the engine. His Jane Doe was beginning to cry out, as the pain became too much. He knew what the beginning felt like, the feeling of red-hot irons pressing against the skin, before the nerves shut down and the body did not register it was powerfully as before.

He had endured in silence for days, when he was turned. He gazed at her beautiful face, the soft angles, the pure skin, the full mouth and the gently rounded chin. It was as if someone had modelled her on a Madonna, she was perfection itself. He couldn't help noticing the slender body revealed by the mortuary gown, the long white legs dangling over the seat.

He heard Edward's exasperated sigh in the front seat and knew he could hear his thoughts only too well. He reached out a hand and stroked the caramel curls piled over his lap, the rich softness falling over his hands. Looking at her face again, he felt a strange surge of recognition. He had known this woman before, but the memory dangled temptingly out of reach. No matter, he would discover who she was when she awoke.

* * *

"Wait a moment; you didn't even know who she was?" Edward suddenly demanded from the wheel. His face turned to Carlisle's with an expression of incredulity. Carlisle narrowed his eyes, letting Edward see his derision.

"She was dying, there was hardly time for a round of introductions, Edward," he sighed through his teeth, only looking up from his charge for a split second. Edward merely rolled his eyes and turned back to the road.

A few moments later, the black Bentley pulled into the gravel driveway of the Cullen manor house. Carlisle leapt from the car the moment it stopped, turning back into the dark interior to lift his Jane Doe into his arms. Her head slumped back as he carried her tenderly into the house.

* * *

_Three Days Later…._

Esme felt the pain recede, the tips of her fingers and toes no longer on fire. The rest of her body drowned in flame, but slowly her awareness returned, the shadows lifting from her mind. She became dimly aware that she laid on a soft mattress, covered with silken blankets, a cool hand clutching her own. She could feel her heartbeat thumping wildly; the rhythm fluctuating wildly, her circulation slowing, the blood in her veins stilling as her heart slowed.

_Thump, thump, thump…._

"Her heart is beginning to slow, it won't be long now," a voice beside her said softly. It had to be her angel's. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears.

_Thump….thump….thump_

"I still can't believe you changed her without knowing who she was, Carlisle?" another voice remarked in an exasperated tone. It had to be his companion from the other night. But she wasn't that interested; she had just learnt her angel's name. Carlisle….Carlisle

_Thump…thump…._

"She's aware, Carlisle. I can hear her thoughts again," the other voice remarked again, sounding relieved. This boy could hear thoughts? But at that moment, the pain suddenly heightened, receding so abruptly from her limbs that Esme screamed and arched. It felt like her veins and arteries were solidifying, the blood freezing in her body. Her heart slowed, the pain pulsating throughout her body.

_Thump….thummmmmp._

I'm dying; she thought, her mind sluggish, feeling the last pump of her heart as it slowed to a halt.

"Hush, you're not dying. You are being reborn," her angel whispered. Her eyes snapped open and locked onto his. Drowned in those captivating eyes.

Carlisle gazed into the chocolate brown eyes that locked onto his desperately, the inherent fear and confusion within them tugging at his heart. He watched as slowly, her heartbeat stopping with one last shudder, red bled into the chocolate, transforming it entirely.

This woman had changed, now any imperfections in her face were erased, the skin as white as marble, but luminous as though imprisoned moonlight was welling through her skin. Any scrap of unneeded flesh had been eradicated; the caramel locks softened even more, the inward beauty of her soul echoing throughout her new form. He saw the pain recede from her eyes, and slipped his hand under her back, helping her to sit up.

He held a silver goblet to her mouth, and she drank greedily. Relieving the burning thirst he knew she had to be feeling. She pushed the goblet away with trembling fingers, before turning to him and asking in a bell-clear voice.

"What am I?"

Carlisle searched her eyes, looking for fear or self-repulsion but there was nothing but curiosity, and slight wonder. He took a deep breath and began to tell her.

"You are reborn, reborn into an evolved species, higher than man. You have become what some may call a vampire,"

"Very well. Now where am I?" she asked again, accepting every word he said.

"Wait, you've just been told you are a vampire. Are you not frightened, or disgusted, or something?" the strawberry blond in the corner asked incredulously.

"I feel amazement, I feel overwhelmed, but mostly I feel relief. In the end I did not wish to die. Why should I be frightened? It seemed clear to me, when I lay on that morgue bed, that you were not human, and what you did for me, well you saved my life. How can I be anything but grateful?" this last was directed to Carlisle. As she gazed at him, she saw him for the first time.

He was not just an Apollo, he was perfect. Blonde waves, flicked back like he ran his fingers through them continually, a chiselled, timeless face, with honey-golden eyes. His body was as hard as his face, the muscles all but rock, clothed in beige slacks and a high-collared white shirt. He was altogether delightful. His voice when he spoke, a moment later, was sensuous and clear, deep as the thunder and as powerful as the sea.

"You have no need to be frightened, my dear. We will care for you. Now as to where you are, you are in my family home, about six miles outside of Chicago. We find it best to live away from human civilisation, so the temptation does not become too much for us," he explained, a sweet smile on his sculpted lips.

"Temptation? But don't you drink human blood?" she asked, puzzled. In all those fireside stories on Halloween, vampires had drunk blood and seduced innocent maidens, and been sons of the devil. And although she had never given the stories any credence, the blood-drinking had to be a must for survival.

"Others of our kind do, but we have taken it upon ourselves to avoid drinking human blood. When we must feed, we drink animal blood," he replied. Esme sighed in relief. She was not sure how she felt about killing a human. _Human_. To think she was no longer human, it blew her mind. And there was enough to blow her mind as it was. It was as if her perceptions had sharpened, allowing her to hear a board creak in the downstairs rooms, to hear the wind whistle through the trees a few miles off.

She could feel the softness of the blanket against her skin, the cold goblet beneath her fingers.

All of her sight was intensified, the scenes pregnant with meaning, the colours brighter. When she breathed in, she could taste the air; smell the pine-fresh scent of Carlisle sitting so near her, the mint scent of the teenage boy standing in the corner.

For a moment she looked around the room they had carried her to. Her human memories seemed so far from her now; she could no longer remember them with any clarity, compared to the intensity of her vampiric perceptions. A burning thirst lay at the back of her throat, she knew for human blood, yet the liquid she had drunk from the goblet temporarily assuaged it. Carlisle interrupted her thoughts, his gentle voice forging through her mire of perceptions.

"Now I think it is time for some introductions, hm?"

"That would be wise, seeing as you forgot earlier," came the teenager's remark.

"Yes, thank you Edward," Carlisle replied pointedly. He sighed, fondly shaking his head, before turning back to Esme. "I am Dr…."

"Carlisle Cullen, I remember. And you are Edward?" She inclined her head to Edward, who surprised, almost fell off his perch.

"How do you know our names?" He asked, watching her piercingly.

"Dr Cullen just mentioned your name. And as for Dr Cullen, he may not remember but we have crossed paths before…" Carlisle's eyes were searching her face, before recognition flared and he cut across her.

"St Mary's Hospital, Milwaukee in Wisconsin correct? Sixteen years ago, broken arm?" he asked breathlessly. He waited with baited breath for her reply; sure he had not mistaken her.

"Yes, Dr Cullen. You do remember! I hoped you would, when I saw your eyes above me in the morgue. My name is Esme Even…." Esme began to use her second name, before she stopped. That was not her name any longer; she was not related to that monster.

"Why did you stop?" Edward asked, suspicious. He saw her thoughts, saw the memories of her former husband and whistled. "Point taken," he muttered. Esme sent him a puzzled glance before turning back to Carlisle.

"Dr Cullen…"

"Please, call me Carlisle," he interrupted. "You are part of our family now, no formality here,"

Esme inclined her head, smiling gently. Carlisle smiled back, losing himself in her beauty. Edward cleared his throat pointedly.

"Right, well you'll be needing to get dressed, and then we'll need to take you hunting, to help with your thirst," he said decisively, standing abruptly, forcefully tearing his eyes from her beauty. "Edward popped out for some women's clothes yesterday. We weren't sure what your size was so, er…" he gestured distractedly to a pile of clothes on a chair beside the bed. Esme nodded, inwardly amused by Carlisle's distraction, touched by his awkwardness. Edward and Carlisle left.

* * *

Esme washed her face and hands, wiping away some nonexistent traces of dirt, before dressing in the high-waisted black trousers and loose blouse Edward had gotten for her. The trousers felt strange but she felt freer. She would need her legs for hunting, and the prospect somehow excited her. The thirst had become nearly unbearable. She heard a footstep outside her door and opened it to reveal Carlisle, about to knock. He lowered his fist, smiling sheepishly. "Are you ready?" he asked, his gaze covertly studying her form.

She felt heat flash through her skin, waiting vainly for a blush to rise. He held out a hand and she placed her fingers in his, aware of a shift in the scene, the atmosphere charged with some emotion. In a rush she stepped close, praying he wouldn't push her away, or worse reject her gently, with pity. She pressed her lips to his tentatively, the pressure gentle and light. To her surprise, he returned it for a split second, before she pulled away, smiling shyly. She noticed embarrassedly that his breathing was ragged.

"What was that for?" he asked, curious. Her kiss had been so gentle, like a butterfly caress. It made him want to crush her to him and return the passive pleasure with something far more fiery. He certainly had never felt like this before.

"Just to say thank-you. For saving my life," she looked down, her eyes lowered in embarrassment. She hoped he didn't have any special abilities, like his son.

"Anytime," he whispered. At his tone, she looked up to see a strange yearning in those golden eyes. Her breath hitched, her lips parted. He stepped away, reminding himself that they had eternity to explore their mutual attraction, that she had just been reborn, she would need time to adjust to her new existence, etcetera. They didn't last for long against the feel of her soft body arching against his, her hands running up his chest to his face longingly. He kissed her once more, showing her a little more passion, reining the rest in, not wishing to scare her. For several moments, they stood, entwined until Carlisle retreated wistfully, feeling her thirst running through her body.

She looked up at him then nodded, stretching up to plant a kiss on his cheek before gliding down the stairs. Carlisle followed, body still thrumming with desire from her gentle lips.

Out in the forest, Carlisle and Esme waited under the covers of the trees for the sun to set, standing close to one another. Edward had already disappeared into the forest, flitting beneath the trees like a shadow. She had turned to Carlisle, wide-eyed, and asked, "Can I do that?"

* * *

He had chuckled and nodded amusement in those entrancing eyes. As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, he had taken her hand and shown how fast she could go. It was like flying; she thought happily, running faster any living creature. Nothing can catch me now! She reached the lip of a rocky tor and jumped, body arching through the air, before landing lightly on a log, the wood cracking under her feet, before going off again. The gurgle of a stream filled her ears, along with the scent of blood, a rich drugging scent, pulling her in.

She focussed her hearing; there had to be two, maybe three animals nearby. She looked to Carlisle, easily keeping pace beside her as she ran, as graceful as a gazelle, joy lighting those red eyes. She still hadn't seen herself in a mirror, he remembered with a mental slap, reminding himself to get her to one as soon as possible. They slowed to a halt behind a towering fir tree, watching a pack of moose drinking from the stream. Esme's senses focussed on the nearest, the thirst building to a fever pitch. She looked to Carlisle questioningly, waiting for approval. He nodded, and she sprang. It was all over in few seconds, and Esme found, dead at her feet, two moose bled dry, her thirst abated.

She looked down at them puzzlingly, unsure if it had been her who had killed them. She looked for Carlisle, and spotted him leaning against a tree, watching her with approval.

"Why don't you join me?" she indicated the fleeing beasts, still easily in reach. Carlisle smiled and shook his head.

"No, I ate yesterday," he told her, walking forward. Esme's breath hitched once more at the harnessed power in the movement, the grace, the sight of strong muscles flexing and relaxing. Her mouth had gone dry, the thirst forgotten. She brought her eyes up to his, tongue darting out to lick her lips uncertainly. His eyes sparked, and she wanted to melt.

Until a delicious, intoxicating scent filled the air. Esme closed her eyes in bliss, senses already seeking out the source of the smell. Her eyes snapped open and a hunter emerged, deadly and ruthless. Mad lust filled her, stopping her from registering Carlisle's warning, "Esme…"

She turned from him and sprang into the woods.

* * *

Carlisle cursed under his breath. He should have realised there might be humans out in the vicinity, he should have prepared for this.

"Edward…" he called softly, knowing his son would hear him. He sprinted after Esme, panic clawing at his heart. He prayed he would reach her before she found the humans, but Christ, she was fast. At last he sighted her, flitting like a golden shadow across a clearing and he put on an extra burst of speed. He reached her heels, and dived, arms going around her waist, pulling her to the ground.

Esme dimly felt the ground fall from beneath her, as a set of inhumanly strong arms went around her waist, so she landed hard against the ground. She barely felt it; all that mattered was that she got to that delicious scent and took it for her own.

"Esme, no!" a commanding cry came from above her. She clawed at the ground, nails raking through the dirt. She was flipped onto her back, a heavy body pressing hers into the earth. She tried to fight, her hands tearing at whoever was restraining her. She growled, all predator, her eyes darting around for a means of escape or fighting. She reached for a tree root beside her, breaking off a large chunk and smashing it over her captor's head.

"Now there was no need for that, Esme," a cultured voice, unfazed by her struggles, sounded above her. It grounded her; allowed Esme to break through the predator's all consuming thirst.

"Carlisle! Oh lord, I'm so sorry!" she cried, the scent still rising in her nostrils. She ceased struggling long enough for him to pin her wrists to the ground. "Did I hurt you?" she asked desperately, the thirst making her voice hoarse. He shook his head, smiling in a strained fashion at her.

"A log over the head won't hurt a vampire," he told her. He glanced ahead, feeling the soft body beneath him, so much stronger than his own, if she but knew it, wriggling against him, causing him agony. The humans had begun to move off, thank god, but he didn't dare to let Esme go. She suddenly screamed in pain, and he looked down in alarm.

"Carlisle, please. I must find the source of that scent, please!" she struggled.

"No, Esme they're humans," he explained. She went still, her morals fighting through her bloodlust. "Please, Carlisle, I can't fight it," she pleaded. He looked down at her, pleading and desperate beneath him, and sighed, his chest pressing against her breasts. He bent his head and set his lips to hers. He kept the kiss slow, building the attraction between them, until he felt her gentle response.

His mouth became urgent, compelling, holding Esme's attention to the exclusion of all else. He refused to let her breathe, his lips fused with hers, forcing them to take their breath from the other. Esme felt her head spin as she returned the kiss, body melting into honey. Carlisle's hands left her wrists to wrap around her waist, pulling her body up against his, whilst her hands tangled in his hair. She revelled in the feel of silken waves, already ruffled by their run. The bloodlust faded, replaced by something far more insidious, far more undeniable. Esme quickly discovered her strength as she rolled him over, her body moving sensuously on his, her lips as urgent as his, her mind drugged by the feel of his torso beneath her, his arms clutching her in an eternal embrace, one she didn't wish to escape. It had never been like this, not with her former husband Alec. He had been distant; severe and as cool as an iceberg when he wasn't drunk. Which was often….

Esme flinched away from her memories, refusing to allow the past to take away the pleasure of the moment. She felt need burst through her, heady and intoxicating, almost as compelling as the bloodlust had been.

She wanted him, now. But was it too soon?

* * *

Carlisle wrenched his lips from hers, as he heard Edward approaching. His body was screaming for him to simply roll Esme over, and take her then and there, but he preferred something more civilized. Like a bed. Besides, he wanted to get to know Esme, to earn her trust so she would reveal her past to him. And in the forest, mere hours after her transformation, was neither the time nor place. He looked down at her regretfully, noting that the scent of human blood had disappeared, and helped Esme to stand.

"Come, we must return. We have so much more we need to teach you, now your thirst is abated," he explained, his fingers remaining twined with hers and Edward sprinted up. Esme searched his face before muttering,

"Undoubtedly," she looked at him, a wicked smile that made Carlisle want to take her then and there flashed across her face. "Race you," she murmured before running off into the night with a glad cry. Edward gave him an inscrutable look before racing after her. Carlisle could hear their exhilarated cries, as with a smile, he ran after them.


	3. Chapter 3

Love At First Sight

_Summary: Esme makes a mistake_

* * *

Esme leant on her bedroom window, staring out at the midday sun. It had been several weeks since her transformation, and she had never felt better. She was finding coping with the bloodlust a little easier, and she had just fed so, no worries there. Carlisle and Edward were both out, one at work, the other at a local school, carrying on the charade of normality. Carlisle…..

Her lips quirked as she remembered her last encounter with Carlisle.

* * *

_She had been in the library, just doing some dusting, since old habits die hard, when she had very nearly run into Carlisle as he approached from behind with a book. She had been stunned; she hadn't even heard him walk in. _

_That was unusual, especially for a vampire. They had been so close; their torsos brushed each other when they breathed out. For one moment they had stared at each other, preternaturally still, unable to move for the sheer paralyzing desire racing through their veins, Esme's particularly. Edward had warned her things like desires and impulses would be almost too strong to resist during her first year. _

_And it had proved to be so when Carlisle and she had simultaneously reached for the other, their lips meeting in an intense embrace, moving sensuously against the other. Until Edward had unexpectedly interrupted them…_

* * *

Secretly she was relieved that Edward had disturbed them; after all they were unmarried and still discovering each other. Rushing into something like that was not high on her agenda. Not after her disastrous relationship with her husband. The death of her son was still raw, and despite her determination to move on, Esme could not help but blame him in some indefinable way.

Esme blinked away the memories which still crept, nightmare-like across her mind, and went back to her perusal of the breathtaking vista outside her window. She watched an eagle soar from the highest branch of a pine, and sighed longingly. She furtively looked down into the front garden, listening and looking for humans. Seeing and hearing none, she pulled the window up, took a few steps back and then ran at the gap, sweet smells blowing in on the warm breeze. She launched herself through the open casement, soaring into empty space, experiencing the incredible rush of her own supernatural abilities, before the terror came, and the memories and anguish form another time she had fallen through the air.

Breathing hard, Esme flipped and landed gracefully on her feet. She stood straight, muttered to herself about not dwelling on the past, and marched purposely into the emerald forest.

Carlisle so rarely allowed her out by herself, worried about her bloodlust, but Esme revelled in the freedom. Not that she was uncaring about the danger, or Carlisle's concern, but she had always loved time alone, just to sit and think in meditation. There had been so little time, in her old life, but now she had all eternity.

She swept her caramel hair over her shoulder, and set off at a run, feet barely seeming to touch the ground. She leapt gracefully over mossy tors, grassy mounds and downed trees, the wind of her passage barely fluttering the leaves of the trees as she passed.

She splashed delightedly into the streamlet, where not long ago she had made her first kill. She sniffed the wind tentatively; conscious of her barely restrained thirst, but there were no game large enough to sate her lust nearby. And no humans thankfully. The delicious scent had not left her memory. But now her senses were overloaded with so many other feelings.

The warmth of the water, where it drenched her long cream dress.

The hot sunlight grazing her diamond hard skin, glittering as though strewn with the faceted gems.

The wind lifting her long hair from her shoulders, streaming it out like a cape behind her. Its gentle kiss caressing her cool skin, as soft and glancing as a feather.

* * *

Esme laughed joyously, her voice bell-clear, as pure as an angel's. She stepped lightly from the brook, its bubbling music like honey in her ears. She found a sunny patch, and lay down, letting the sun dry her skin and dress. She gazed up at the forget-me-not blue sky, threaded with clouds like woollen dream shapes, moving in an endless dance, as slow and constant as time itself.

_A bit like us_, Esme thought philosophically, _we are forever dancing, forever alive but never changing. That is the main difference between us and the clouds above. _

_They can change, morph and grow or lessen, or die out completely. I cannot, I am frozen like an image in ice_. She flicked such gloomy thoughts from her mind; casting around for another subject. Predictably, her brain conjured the image of her golden angel.

"Carlisle," she sighed, exhaling as her body tautened with desire.

She was suddenly glad that he was far, far away in Chicago, working in the hospital. Had he been close; she would probably have thrown herself into his arms.

_I should probably be blushing right about now_, she thought with a wry smile, _if I could. _

But then her heart was flooded with something not even like desire, but a simple yearning for his company, for his calming presence near her.

Some part of her was both relieved and exasperated that he was such a gentleman, that he hadn't taken advantage of her. All her human life, she had been used and abused by men, and to find one that was such a contrast, so gentle, so kind and…loving? Was it love that she saw in his eyes when they glanced upon her? Was it love that rose up within her whenever they were in the same room? So many questions, and she felt it was too early to ask them. It had only been two months since they had first met, or been reunited as it were. Except Esme felt the passionate emotion rise up within her, beckoning her hurry home, so she could be there when he arrived home, when he would bestow his special smile on her and her alone.

Edward had noticed, but had not commented on the attraction rising between them, and for that she was grateful. In a completely platonic way, Edward was precious to her too, almost like the son she had lost. The son she hoped he would have grown up to be. _My beautiful son…._

* * *

But then her contemplations were interrupted by the luscious scent filtering over the breeze, and she sat bolt upright. Oh god, she thought tremblingly, oh no no no….

Despite the fact she stopped breathing, stopped thinking and closed her eyes, her ears picked up the sound of screams and jeering. Immediately she leapt to her feet, and immediately honed in on the source of the sounds. She took off through the trees.

* * *

Carlisle had just picked up Edward from his school and was driving along the winding road, leading to their manor house, when they too heard the screams. Edward went rigid, as thoughts tumbled into his brain, and Carlisle immediately stopped the car. As soon as he breathed in, he smelt the intoxicating scent of human blood, not two miles away. He looked at Edward and nodded once, as they turned as one and bounded into the trees.

Fear rose nebulously in Carlisle's mind. If he could smell the blood, then so could Esme. And she would not be able to control the bloodlust; they needed to reach the humans fast. To save them. Edward read his thoughts, as they ran side by side, and said comfortingly.

"We'll get there in time, Carlisle. We'll get there,"

"I should not have left her alone so early into her first year," he replied, anguish welling up. Guilt was there too; that he had left her vulnerable. He was supposed to protect her, and now he had put her in jeopardy. If she was harmed, he would never forgive himself.

* * *

Esme burst into the clearing, to find a brute bearing down on a small, obviously scared young woman. She was covered in bruises and cuts, some bleeding profusely, her blonde hair drenched in blood.

She halted, watching wearily, as the man beat the woman with a broken branch, and threw her to the ground. Esme remained hidden in the shadows, watching, and waiting. The woman was knocked unconscious by her fall, banging her head on a rock. The brute stopped, breathing heavily as he advanced on her still form. Esme felt rage overcome her heart; there had been two heartbeats in the clearing, now there was only one. She stepped from the shadows of the trees, and the brute's eyes fixed on her. His lips curled, his tiny eyes narrowed greedily.

He opened his mouth to speak, callously treading over the dead woman's legs, and Esme felt something within her snap. Memory upon memory flooded her, of countless beatings by her husband, lying bloodied and broken on the floor, on the hospital bed after her suicide, and now this. She leapt forward, and the man's mouth opened in a silent scream.

* * *

Carlisle and Edward flew through the forest, racing for the clearing where the scent had originated from. They could hear the screams, the bellows of pain, and knew they were too late. The thudding heartbeat in the clearing slowed, as the two vampires crashed through the bushes. Carlisle halted, seeing Esme crouched over her victim, blood drenching the front of her cream dress. Guilt filled his being; he should never have left her alone.

* * *

Esme felt the approach of the two vampires, but it was not enough to puncture the morass of crazed lust her mind had become as soon as the blood had touched her lips. All she cared about was the need to keep drinking, even though she sensed her victim was nearly drained anyway.

"Esme…." She heard the gentle whisper, and it was enough to make her draw back. But then another heartbeat filled the clearing, and Esme's head turned hypnotically towards the vibrant scent filling the clearing.

And met the frightened eyes of a little boy, cowering in the foliage. She dropped her victim, staring at the boy. Reason returned, blocking out the bloodlust, the hunter that screamed for his blood.

"Esme…."

Esme looked down at herself, covered in blood, her hands soaked in the red elixir. Her breath came short, her hands began to shake. She looked down at the bloodied corpse, blood still leaking from puncture wounds on his neck and chest. My god, what have I become? She wondered, revulsion thrumming through her veins. The shaking worsened, as she stood up, backing away from the corpse, holding her breath. Panic filled her.

"I didn't….I couldn't….My God what am I?" she whispered brokenly, not daring to look at Carlisle or Edward. Memories of the past few minutes filled her mind; and she hoped Edward would see and understand. "No…" she whispered. She felt warm hands clamp around her arms, pulling her away.

"Esme, look at me," she heard Carlisle's voice in her ear, but it could not penetrate her self-horror. He turned her, unable to fight his strength, but she still refused to look at him. "Look at me," he insisted, trying to tip her chin up gently.

"No!" Esme shouted, tearing herself from his grip, and spinning to flee into the forest. She couldn't bear to see the disgust and disappointment that would no doubt be on his beloved face.

Her thoughts were fevered, as she ran, sensing Carlisle following her, calling her name, but she was faster than him.

I'm a monster, I'm dangerous, I need to get away from here….

"Carlisle get after her! I'll take care of the boy!" Edward shouted, the pain of Esme's thoughts reverberating throughout his being. Carlisle sped after her, straining to overtake her as they left the clearing far behind.

"Esme, stop!" he called hopelessly, as her form dwindled into the distance.

* * *

Esme sprinted through the woods, not caring if branches snagged her hair, or stones tore at her feet. But she knew that her skin was too hard to tear, her vampiric agility too honed to crash into any trees. But right then she needed the pain, needed the sense of punishment. She had killed, she had murdered someone. She was a monster.

Eventually she emerged from the forest, at the beginning of a lake, as deep blue as a sapphire. The evening breeze whipped through her hair, pulling the tendrils off of her bloodied face. She glanced down at her ruined dress, her drenched hands. She was filled with a mad desire to tear her own skin off, just to rid herself of the stench of blood. She splashed into the depths of the lake, flicking the cool water onto her face, the rivulets streaming from her face tinged with red. She scrubbed at her hands desperately, nails raking across her palms. Suddenly she caught sight of her reflection in the crystalline depths.

Her hair was dripping wet, parts of it snarled into tangles, her face still marred with stripes of blood, like war paint. Her eyes glowed an eerie red, the eyes of a predator. Revulsion filled her, and she smashed the surface of her reflection. The cold water lapped at her waist, beckoning her into its watery world. But she knew that she could not die, could not commit suicide again.

Only another vampire could kill her now. She turned and walked out of the water, emerging from it like a nymph from the deeps of legend. The silken material of her dress clung to her body, as she trailed rivulets of water over the shale shore.

Remorse and sadness filled her, she climbed a rocky outcrop and stood on its pinnacle, as the moon rose and bathed her in its silvery glow. Calming herself with a deep breath, and the pine-fresh scent of Carlisle filled her nostrils, he was searching for her she knew. She would let him find her now; but as she looked up at the darkening sky, her black misery began to choke her once more.

_I am a creature of the night, but that does not excuse my crime_, she thought to herself.

* * *

Carlisle emerged from the line of trees, and sighted Esme standing like a statue upon the rocky tor. He sighed, and lightly sprang up behind her, his hands going around her waist and pulling her into his arms. Her entire body shook with sobs she could not give voice to, her eyes watering with tears that could not fall. Carlisle hugged her harder, hushing her soothingly as she cried. Her voice was like a silken sigh on the night, when she finally spoke.

"You should've let me die. I've failed everyone, you and Edward. Myself…. Why did you save me?" she gasped, her utter misery sounding in her voice.

"Esme, don't talk like that. Don't even think like that. What happened today was not your fault," he replied soothingly.

"Not my fault? How can you say that when I….I…." Esme couldn't get the words out, couldn't own to the truth of them.

"If there is any fault, it is mine. I should not have been so stupid as to have left you alone, so early in your first year. It was an unforgivable lapse, one which will not happen again, I promise you Esme," Carlisle breathed in her ear. Esme turned in his embrace, anguish clearly written on her face.

"Carlisle you haven't….you haven't k-killed anyone. You're not a monster, nothing you do is unforgivable!" she cried, burying her face in his shirt. She half-expected him to push her away in disgust; she didn't understand his compassion. She felt his hands on either side of her face, tilting her up to face him.

"Esme, listen to me. You are not a monster, nor were you to blame for what happened today. Newborns have great difficulty controlling the bloodlust, and I don't blame you. If you let this consume you, it will torture you for eternity," he told her firmly. Her eyes finally met his golden ones, and he could see all the remorse and the guilt of what she had done. "Oh Esme….."

He held her to him, stroking his hand down the damp, rippling wave of her hair. He leant his cheek on her wet curls, soothing her trembling body.

"Why, why did you save me?" she whispered, her heart still heaving in pain. She felt him tense, felt his arms go rigid around her.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked in a rough whisper. Esme shook her head, clutching desperately to the front of his shirt. "Esme look at me,"

She looked into his eyes, and what she saw made her catch her breath.

Carlisle took a deep breath, searching deep for the truth he had hidden from her, even from Edward. "Esme, I love you. From the first moment I saw you, lying on that hospital bed, bloodied and broken, my heart ruled me. I changed you when I probably shouldn't have; I gave you immortality when it might have been kinder to let you slip into death. I was selfish, unbelievably selfish but I couldn't let you go. Somewhere deep down, I knew you were the one woman I could ever love. I know this might be slightly forward and perhaps out of place considering the circumstances, but…"

"I asked for it. And no, you weren't selfish," Esme interrupted, placing her fingers on his lips. "You are the most unselfish, self-effacing person I have ever met. You willingly place yourself under torture every day, just to help nameless, unknown innocents like me. I just don't know how you can love such a monster like me," this last was said with a sad quirk of her lips, looking down shamefacedly. Carlisle exhaled exasperatedly, before he tilted her head up gently.

"For the last time, Esme, you are not a monster. You are the gentlest, kindest most loving person I have ever known. And I will love you forever, no matter whether you return my feelings or not. Do you love me?" he asked tentatively, dreading her denial. But she wasn't pushing him away or showing any signs of doing it. Her ruby eyes seemed to glow.

"How could the earth not love the sun that gives it life? You saved my life, and brought me into this incredible existence. You gave me the possibility of an eternity with you. I have loved you ever since that day in Wisconsin, so many years ago. I just didn't know how to say it," Esme admitted, smiling gently.

Carlisle's smile was like the sun itself, as he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. Her arms came around his neck, pulling herself closer, falling into the simple communion of their lips. She pulled away, and Carlisle let her go reluctantly.

She seemed troubled, her perfect brow creased. "Carlisle, you must understand first, that there are some things I need to tell you. But I can't not yet, anyway. The memories are too….raw," she finished awkwardly. He simply kissed her brow, and whispered against it.

"Take your time, love. After all we have eternity together,"

"Thank you," she whispered back, her smile beatific. Their lips rejoined hungrily, their tongues entwining with a hot passion. Her fingers slid into his hair, revelling in the golden silk beneath her palms, and she heard him groan lightly against her lips. He pulled away entirely, putting a little distance between their overly heated bodies, and held out his hand.

"Come, lets go home,"

* * *

Hand in hand, they walked back down the tor, their hearts considerably lighter than when they had arrived. Esme would never forget the pain, or the remorse of what she had done, even to such a villain as the brute in the clearing, but with Carlisle's love shining in her heart, she was willing to meet the challenge of living through it.

* * *

Back at the house, Edward paced round and round the living room, agitatedly awaiting Esme and Carlisle's arrival. He could hear their thoughts, and knew they were close. At last they re-entered the house, still hand-in-hand, and Edward couldn't help but smile. He knew what had happened, and he was happy for Carlisle, that some good could come out of the mess their lives were about to become.

"Carlisle, I've buried the bodies back in the clearing. They're far enough down that no-one will be able to stumble upon them easily,"

And the boy?" Carlisle asked sharply, closing the door behind them. In the glow from the lamps, they looked like statues bathed in gold, still as they were.

"I took him back to his home. He was the woman's son. From his thoughts, I'm guessing the man was his father," Edward replied. Esme suddenly shivered. Oh God it was Alec all over again, she thought, not remembering about Edward's ability. Edward glanced at her sharply.

"I suggest that we leave soon, perhaps head to New York. There will be suspicion, once the disappearances become known,"

"I doubt it. The humans lived alone in a cabin, in the woods. The boy is far too young to incriminate us, and I doubt anyone will see their deaths as suspicious," Edward countered.

"Very well. I still say we should move, just as a precaution. I can easily get a transfer in a week or so," Carlisle nodded, before turning to Esme. She was trembling slightly, her hand still clutching his with a death grip.

"What about the boy? Surely you didn't just leave him there?" she asked incredulously. Edward looked almost affronted.

"Of course not. I made sure someone found him," he replied tersely. Esme let out a sigh of relief. The thought of that little boy, alone and scared, made her heart twist.

"Right, Edward I want you to make up the survival packs, just in case. Esme you need to change," he ushered her out of the door. Esme went readily; glad to be out of the same room as Edward. His penetrating gaze was becoming uncomfortable.

* * *

Once in her room, Esme quickly changed into some clean clothes, before brushing the knots and tangles from her hair. Afterwards, she drifted to the bed and lay down upon it. She studied the patterns in the plaster of the ceiling, tracing each crack and ridge of pain with her eyes. The lights were off, and she lay in darkness, her mind taken up with the events of the day. Another memory came back, of Alec beating her whilst she lay defenceless and bleeding on the floor, and she shuddered, grief welling up in her.

"Esme?" Carlisle's voice came from the door. He came over to her, and lay beside her on the bed. She automatically turned to him, and his arms came around her, cradling her body as she again cried tearlessly for the second time that day.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "Just some bad memories,"

"It's alright. You can tell me when you're ready," he replied softly, kissing her silky curls. Together they lay, studying the shifting shadows upon the ceiling, their breaths in time with each other, their bodies fitting together like a key in a lock. Esme had never felt so warm, or so loved. She looked up at him, and kissed his neck, working up over his chin to his lips.

"I love you, you know that?" she whispered. He kissed her deeply one last time, before tucking her head underneath his chin.

"And I love you, more than anything in eternity," he answered, his heart bursting with sincerity. In that moment, neither cared that Edward could hear them, or that they had a whole bunch of problems to face. All that mattered was that they were together, at long last. Together for eternity.


	4. Chapter 4

Love At First Sight

* * *

_Staten Island, New York_

"Esme?" at the call, Esme swung around, her caramel curls flying. Carlisle stood in the doorway, one hand on either side of the frame, watching her with a smile. Esme smiled at him, putting down the book she had been reading. "Could you come with me please?"

Esme rose and followed him, brow furrowed in wonder. He led her to his study, Edward at school, and sat her down in his chair.

"Carlisle what is it?" she asked quietly, as he stayed at the door.

"I just wondered if you would do me the honour of coming to the opera tonight?" he asked, a small smile gracing his lips. Esme gasped, delighted.

"Really, you think I'm ready to go out, in public?" She babbled, delight, shock and fear warring for dominance. Carlisle nodded, walking forward to kneel in front of Esme, taking her hands.

"Esme, you are more than ready. You've been incredible for the past three years," he told her reassuringly. Esme winced, easily remembering back three years to Chicago.

* * *

After Carlisle had secured a transfer, they had moved to Manhattan, Carlisle taking up a job in one of the local hospitals, Edward starting at a private boys' school, and Esme acting as Edward's sister. She had not touched a drop of human blood since then.

* * *

"So, shall I take that as a yes?" Carlisle's voice jolted her out of her reverie. Esme nodded, beaming. Carlisle nodded decisively. "Very well then. Be ready at six,"

Esme bounded out of the room, joy lighting her heart. She loved opera, and always had. She hadn't heard any since before her marriage. She raced up to her bedroom, and began ransacking her closet.

* * *

That evening, Carlisle waited impatiently at the bottom of the stairs for Esme to appear. Edward appeared beside him, smirking slightly as he heard Carlisle's thoughts.

"Patience, Carlisle. She'll be ready in a minute," he said soothingly, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. Carlisle flicked him a distinctly impatient look. Edward's smile only deepened. Finally they both heard the footsteps and a door open and close, as a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Carlisle abruptly caught his breath.

Esme was clothed in an elegant gown of soft lilac, the silk draping her flawless curves to perfection. The gown was off the shoulder, revealing the porcelain expanse of her rounded shoulders. She had swept her caramel waves up, and pinned them so a few curly tendrils brushed the nape of her neck. She wore no makeup, since she needed none, and no jewellery. To complete the ensemble she wore white silk evening gloves and silver high-heels. As she glided down the stairs toward Carlisle and Edward, her own eyes widened as she took in the sight of him in his debonair black tuxedo. He took her hand as she stopped in front of him with a questioning glint in her eye. Carlisle couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"You look….absolutely beautiful," he whispered. Edward, at that point discreetly disappeared. Slowly, Carlisle leaned in and brushed her lips with his own, allowing heat to flare, before he kissed her tenderly, slowly, enticingly. Esme fell into his arms, hands resting on his silky lapel. Eventually he broke from her lips, and looked down at her, hands locked around her tiny waist, soft and limp in his arms.

"You're missing one thing." He said meditatively, surveying her outfit. Esme's brow creased in confusion. Carlisle produced a small silver necklace from his pocket, the single stone a deep amethyst surrounded by tiny starburst diamonds. Esme gasped in delight as he placed it around her neck. She touched the stone wondrously, before she reached up to kiss him again, her gratitude gleaming in her eyes.

"We'd better go or we'll be late," he whispered against her lips. Esme nodded, and stood back to slip into her silk wrap. Carlisle shrugged into his coat, and held the door open for Esme. Before he left, he glanced back and saw Edward standing in the shadows, grinning smugly. He mouthed 'good luck' as Carlisle slipped out of the door.

* * *

The opera house was packed to the rafters, and Esme flinched at first as the smell of warm, vibrant blood rushed up her nostrils. Her hand clenched around Carlisle's arm, but he squeezed her hand soothingly and she relaxed, and began to cope. They took their seats, as the orchestra began and the singers appeared on stage. Esme relaxed into her seat, sharp eyes picking up the sumptuous costumes of the tenors and sopranos, the glittering sets and intoxicating music. The rhythm of the enthralling music reverberated through her being, sending echoes of emotion rocketing within her heart. As the first act ended, she glanced at Carlisle, unsheddable tears of joy and gratitude glimmering in her eyes. Carlisle squeezed her hand, and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you so much, Carlisle," she whispered, eyes flicking up to his.

"As in all things, my pleasure is in your delight," he answered, gently kissing the corner of her mouth. Esme shivered, her lids falling. They stared into each other's eyes, not noticing that the music had started again. Finally Esme managed to tear her eyes away from the man sitting beside her, and back to the performance. Carlisle did the same, fingering a small velvet box in his pocket.

Esme felt as though her silk gown had become far too hot, clinging to her skin even though she did not sweat. Her skin heated, her breathing accelerated. The music began to crescendo towards the final piece, and Esme's spirit with it. The opera ended upon one last piercing, suspended note, as the curtain came crashing down. Esme stood, along with Carlisle as the audience around and above them burst into applause. After the curtain calls, they left hurriedly, and escaped into the car. Esme relaxed back against the leather interior, until she realised the car was not returning home, but leaving the city. She felt alarm race through her, as her eyes snapped open.

"Where are we going?" she asked Carlisle curiously. He winked at her reassuringly in the driver's seat, and answered.

"The evening's not over yet,"

* * *

They drove out of the city and into the woods still sprawling around the growing metropolis. Esme felt excitement, anticipation begin to rise once more, and she shuffled in her seat, watching the stars above flash past. At last Carlisle pulled up on a rise overlooking the city, shrouded by trees on all sides. He got out, and opened Esme's door helping her out in a gentlemanly fashion. Esme slipped her shoes off, to walk barefoot on the grassy ground, and gasped in delight at the view of the glittering city. Carlisle walked up behind her, and drew her back into his arms, leaning his head on her hair. Esme relaxed back into his hold, melting into his arms. Her fingers drew little circles on the hand at her waist, as they stood for some time, just staring at the city. Eventually, Carlisle stirred and bent his head so he could whisper in her ear.

"I love you, Esme,"

"I love you too, Carlisle. Thank you for such a wonderful evening," Esme whispered back, her luminously beautiful face beaming with joy. "But shouldn't we be getting back?"

"Don't worry. Edward's not expecting us back for a long time," he said, before his lips brushed the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered and sank even further into his arms, lips parting. She turned her head around, and their lips met in an inexpressibly tender embrace, before it deepened into something far more incendiary. She twisted around in his arms, twining her arms around his neck, her wrap slipping down one shoulder, baring it to the moonlight. Their tongues met and duelled, as Carlisle's hands dropped below her waist, pulling her to him, moulding her body to his. Esme gasped and pulled herself closer, her soul crying out for him, for all she had never gotten to have because he was so damn gentlemanly. But reason slowly interrupted, and demanded she tell him about her past first. She wrenched her lips away, breathing "No," between their lips, eyes apologetic. But to her surprise, Carlisle drew back and nodded.

"You're right, we….I must do this properly," and with that he released her entirely, his breathing ragged.

"That's not what I meant…."she started, until Carlisle took a pace back and knelt down, taking her hand in his. Her breathing stopped entirely, her eyes wide.

"Esme, I love you and only you. I promise to love you for eternity, to protect you and comfort you. Will you marry me?" he asked, speaking slowly and surely. Esme's eyes filled with tears, unable to fall, as she took in the man kneeling before her, looking up at her with such love in his eyes, her god, her Apollo from her dreams offering himself. All she had to do was take him, open her lips and say yes. Finally she managed to speak.

"Before I answer, I need to tell you about my past, Carlisle. Then you can decide if you still wish to marry me," Esme whispered, heart heaving in pain and joy. Carlisle's brow creased with confusion. "I'm not saying no," Esme assured him with a smile. He pulled her down beside him, and sat with his arm around her. Esme took a deep breath before she continued.

"My real name is…was Esme Evenson, and I wasn't a widow like the doctors in Chicago thought. That was a disguise, to protect myself. But let me start at the beginning; five years after you and I first met, I was married to Alec Charles Evenson, a much older gentleman who was in the army. At first I was happy, but then he began to change. He started drinking heavily, and then he began to…..to hurt me. He started beating me, and sometimes at night…." Esme stopped, shaking as the suppressed memories. Carlisle's arms tightened around her, and she felt him shaking with suppressed emotion.

Eventually she continued, "He told me if I ever told anyone, or left him he would hunt me down and kill me. Four years ago, I discovered I was pregnant. It was then that I realised I had to run, I had to escape for the child's sake. For my son's sake. So I saved as much money as I could, waited for him to leave one night, to go drinking with his friends, and left. I caught a bus into the next town, and by midnight I was on a train to Illinois. I sought and found lodgings, disguised myself as a widow and waited to give birth, always fearing that one day I would awake to find him looming over me, like he used to when he was drunk and looking for someone to hurt. When my son was born, he was weak and he died not long after birth. I became suicidal; I was so bitter that God, the world had chosen to take the one good thing in my life from me. so I went to the cliff, and jumped, to join him in heaven. You know the rest," she finished lamely.

After a moment's silence she twisted her head to look at Carlisle. His face was set, his eyes glittering with something she couldn't identify. Her heart sank; she faced forward and said tremblingly. "Do you still want to marry me, now you know the truth?"

The next thing she knew she was flat on her back in the grass, Carlisle looming above her. No fear flamed at the sight, instead she felt an answering lust rise at the desire she glimpsed in his eyes.

"Of course I still want to marry you," he whispered, his voice so low and rough it was almost a growl. He kissed her soundly, and she felt joy soar at his words. He still wanted her. "But you've yet to answer my question," he said against her lips, when they parted lips. Esme smiled up at him, and slid her fingers into his hair, ruffling it.

"Yes I will marry you, Carlisle. You are the only man I've ever loved, and will ever love," she whispered, drawing his face down to hers. Their lips rejoined, and their tongues entwined. She could feel him moving against her, hands slipping under her waist, and she was drawn back to that evening in the forest, the day she awoke from her transformation. The burning desire that had lain, simmering beneath their skins for the past three years.

His hands burned through the silk of her dress, resting in the indent of her waist. Esme shifted restlessly beneath him, aching for more. But then his weight left her, and when she opened her eyes he was on the other side of the clearing, breathing heavily as he watched her. Esme confused, sat up slowly, brushing her dishevelled hair from her face.

"What is it?" she asked her voice hoarse.

"I had meant to do this properly," Carlisle said roughly, walking forward slowly to kneel before her once more. He produced a ring box from his pocket, and opened it. Esme gasped.

Inside, nestled on white silk, lay a gold ring sporting a pear-shaped diamond, the band inlaid with amethysts. It was beautiful, and Esme couldn't help but stare at it, twinkling in the moonlight, as he slipped it onto her finger.

"You like it?" he asked.

"I love it," she breathed, as his lips returned to hers.

* * *

A few weeks later, Esme slipped out of the house, for one last visit before she married Carlisle the next day. Edward was to be their witness at a quiet ceremony, before they again moved, this time to Maine.

It would take her only a few hours to run to Illinois, where her son was buried in the cemetery just outside Chicago. She shrugged a black coat on, before she turned into the shadows, and began to run. Buildings blurred past, in the overcast early morning, the sun not rising above the clouds. It was time to close the door on her past.

Within hours, she was in Illinois, and she slowed her pace, breathing only slightly hard. She still marvelled at her incredible speed, and her stamina. As she neared the city, she began to feel nervous, an instinct niggling at her to turn tail and run. But she raised her chin and continued on towards the small church, and cemetery nestled outside the Windy City.

The wind did indeed lift her hair, beneath the steel-grey sky. Esme picked up her pace, and found herself at the gates. She entered, her heart heaving, and she caught sight of some early daffodils poking their heads from the still frosty ground. She picked them, careful to only take hold of their stems, to avoid taking the earth away with her also.

Carefully she picked her way around the graves, scanning the names on the stones. She turned a corner and stopped dead.

Slumped against a gravestone, clad in the same black she wore, was her former husband Alec. Esme froze, unsure whether or not to turn and run, but she was unafraid. He had no power over her anymore. Raising her chin, she walked forward, and saw to her dismay that he was slumped against her son's grave. Holding the daffodils in one leather-clad hand, she moved forward silently. She saw her reflection in the iced over pond, and grimaced. Her skin was luminous, as beautiful as ever, but enough of her previous appearance remained to render her recognisable. She was dressed in a high-waisted black pencil skirt, a black roll-neck, boots and a black coat, open to the air, showing off her figure. Her long hair was loose down her back. Steeling herself she moved forward.

Alec's head snapped up, and she could instantly see that he had been drinking, were it not for the shock that passed across his face, mingling with grief.

"Bitch!" he muttered, standing up shakily. Esme stood her ground as he stumbled towards her. His once athletic frame had wilted, dark shadows under his eyes, stubble dotting his jaw. His once black hair was streaked with grey, hanging lank on his cheek.

"How did you find us?" she asked her voice bell-clear. Alec stopped, narrowed his eyes.

"Not hard. Just had to look for a widow with a young child, didn't I? I told you I'd find you," he said simply, his words slurring together. Esme met his malevolent eyes, and simply raised her chin. He suddenly shot out a hand and grasped her neck. Esme didn't move, suddenly bored.

"You've changed, Esme. When I went to the hospital, I was told you'd killed yourself. That after our son had died; you'd flung yourself off a cliff,"

"He was not your son, you bastard!" Esme growled, feeling her control slip.

"He was, and you took him from me! Why didn't you just die, you bitch!" Alec bellowed, trying to squeeze her throat, to suffocate her. Esme merely smiled predatorily, and whispered.

"I didn't die; I was reborn," and with that she untwisted his fingers from around her neck, twisted a hand in his filthy shirt and threw him across the graveyard. He landed and lay still, only just conscious. Esme shot him a contemptuous glance, as she knelt before her son's grave and placed the daffodils there. She stared at the gravestone, for one moment feeling grief well up, then she stood when she heard footstep behind her, as Alec struggled towards her, the light of vengeance in his eyes.

"Bitch!" he said simply, swinging his fist at her. Esme dodged it easily, and caught his wrist, twisting it. Alec screamed in pain, and collapsed to his knees. Esme stared down at him, golden eyes glittering, when the sun came out unexpectedly from behind a cloud. Alec gasped, shielding his eyes from Esme's glittering skin, more effervescent and glittering than thousands of diamonds. "What are you?" he gasped.

"You have no power over me anymore, Alec. You cannot hurt me; you cannot touch me, for I am so much more than you now. Goodbye," and with that she stepped around his snivelling figure and walked away, feeling slightly shaken.

As she ran from the cemetery, a hand shot out and pulled her into a copse. Esme screamed and fetched up against a hard as diamond chest.

* * *

"Carlisle!" she gasped, looking up into his glittering eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Edward heard your thoughts, and told me. I followed you to make sure you were alright," Carlisle explained, a slightly sheepish expression on his face.

"I should have known," Esme rolled her eyes. A moment later, hard arms came around her waist, holding her close. Esme relaxed, hugging him back.

"Are you alright?" he asked, breathing in the scent of her hair. Esme nodded.

"I just needed to say goodbye, to my old life," she whispered. "I just didn't expect this,"

"I'm proud of you, Esme. You didn't give into your bloodlust," he said, matter-of-factly.

"I know, I wanted to, though. But I didn't, I guess I'm not a monster after all," she smiled up at him.

"You never were," he growled, and kissed her furiously. Esme sank against him with a sigh. "Come, let's go home,"

Esme placed her hand in his; they turned as one, and began the long run home.


	5. Chapter 5

Love At First Sight

* * *

Esme flicked her hair out of her face with a flourish, pinning it into a chignon. She glided a slide into place, comprised of white lilies and roses, traced with opals and diamonds, and flicked her small face veil over the marble perfection of her face. The hair slides had been yet another gift from Carlisle, and she hadn't wanted to offend him by refusing his generosity. She simply couldn't, not after the glow upon his face when she had accepted them. She had later learnt from Edward that they had been passed down from his mother's family.

The light from the windows sparkled on the diamond perfection of her skin, and on the multi-faceted ring upon her finger, soon to be joined by a simple gold wedding band.

"Well, here goes nothing," she muttered, as she stood and smoothed the front of her simple wedding dress. She wore a silk and chiffon dress, with the front of the skirt quite short, ending at her knees and the back trailing down like an inverted arum lily. The bodice was ruched lace, flowers and delicate embroidery trailing over her moon-white skin. The bodice ended just before her shoulders, the long sleeves hugging her slim arms down to her wrists. White silk pumps and pearl drops in her ears completed her wedding trousseau.

"Esme? Are you ready? We need to leave soon," Edward said, appearing in the doorway. He stopped dead at the sight of her, a wide smile on his face. Esme watched him guardedly.

"What is it?" she asked quietly. Was something wrong?

"Nothing's wrong, Esme. You look….absolutely stunning. You just took me off guard," he was quick to reassure her. "You look like a goddess,"

"Thank you. If I could blush I would be right now," Esme told him, eyes cast down demurely. Edward gently squeezed her hand, smiling.

"I'm so happy that Carlisle managed to find you,"

"If I recall correctly, you couldn't believe he didn't find out my name first," Esme remembered, lips quirking humorously.

"It all turned out for the best. You both deserve so much better than you've been dealt…."

"No. I have been given a second chance with the man of my dreams, the man I have loved since I was sixteen. There is nothing else I could desire," she stopped him, one hand on his cheek.

"Nothing else?" Edward's gaze was piercing. Esme looked down, knowing he could hear her most private desires.

"I know I can never replace the child I've lost, but maybe one day…."

"Maybe…" Edward agreed with a sad smile.

"It will happen to you too, you know. One day, you'll find her, as Carlisle found me," She replied, dragging out his most private desire. Edward blinked, but the moment passed, as he offered his arm. Esme collected her small bouquet of ivory roses, and took his arm, as they glided, preternaturally graceful, down the stairs.

* * *

Carlisle waited, impatiently, at the altar of the small chapel for his bride to appear. Edward was escorting Esme to the church, in place of the father of the bride, and the minister waited behind him, book in hand. Finally, he heard a car pull up, then footsteps as Esme and Edward ascended the church steps. The young woman on the piano began playing the traditional march, and then, finally, his bride appeared in the doorway, the sunlight haloing her sumptuous figure.

She looked like an angel, descending from heaven, enshrouded in white lace and silk, the long thin lines of her legs displayed by her magnificent dress. A wide, breathtaking smile appeared on her rosy lips, and Carlisle had to dig deep for all his control, to stop himself from marching forward and taking her in his arms. Slowly but surely, Edward and Esme began their short journey up the aisle, where she would become his forever. Carlisle barely heard the music, or the smell of human blood, he had only eyes for Esme.

Her golden eyes glowed with pure happiness and anticipation, her caramel hair shone in the light from the doorway and her skin sparkled, until the doors closed and the sunlight retreated. They paced up the aisle, keeping in time to the music, and it seemed to Carlisle an entire age had passed before Esme stepped up beside him, and Edward released her to stand at his shoulder. He squeezed her hand, as they turned to face the minister. He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"Second time lucky," he heard her mutter, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly again, smiling slightly. The minister cleared his throat and began the vows.

* * *

Esme was only aware of one thing, as the minister rambled on. All her senses and her mind were taken up by Carlisle, standing oh so debonair in his black tuxedo and a single white rose in his buttonhole. She was deaf, dumb and blind to all else but him. She dimly saw his hard lips shape words, and had to shake herself back to awareness.

"I do," Carlisle had said. The minister turned to her, as Carlisle slid the small gold wedding band onto her ring finger, just above her engagement ring.

"And do you, Esme Caroline Evenson, take Carlisle William Cullen to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the minister handed her the ring, and she gave Carlisle the biggest smile she could muster.

"I do," she whispered, almost too quiet for the minister to hear. She slid the ring onto Carlisle's finger, and clung to his hand.

"And I now pronounce you husband and wife, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit," the minister intoned. Carlisle and Esme didn't wait for the ending. He tenderly lifted her short veil, and set his lips to hers, his hands drifting down to cradle her face and then the tops of her arms, pulling her closer. Esme tilted her head back, luring him in deeper, yearning for the night to come.

"You may kiss the bride," the priest said half-heartedly. Edward grinned, as the priest walked away, into the vestry. Carlisle and Esme continued to kiss, oblivious to everything and anything.

"Carlisle?"

No response.

"Er…Carlisle?"

Still nothing.

"Carlisle!"

Carlisle finally broke from Esme's lips with a growl, forgetting his son's presence.

"What?" he asked, yanking Esme closer when she tried to pull away.

"I'm going to go…now," Edward replied, smirking. In one fluid movement, he hugged Esme, clapped Carlisle on the shoulder and was out of the door. Carlisle rolled his eyes, before he turned Esme and they began to walk down the aisle to the now open doors.

* * *

"Where is Edward going?" Esme asked, as they ducked into the car and started their journey home. Esme's gaze was drawn again and again to her wedding ring, linked with Carlisle's fingers. Her _husband_.

"Hunting trip. Although in Edward's case it's going to be a very long one,"

"Oh? Why?" Esme asked, her beautiful brow creased in confusion.

"To give us some space, my love," he whispered, leaning across to kiss her ardently. "So we can have a honeymoon,"

Esme shivered at the word. Desire tautened her muscles, and she was silent as they sped back to their home.

Carlisle opened her door, when they reached their spacious house, and before she could fathom his direction; he had her in his arms, carrying her over the threshold. Esme gasped, and laid her head against his shoulder, laughing with him as they climbed the stairs. She kicked off her shoes as they ascended, at a human pace, not needing to rush.

* * *

They passed her bedroom, yet she was not surprised. He was her husband now, she belonged with him. But as they reached Edward's room, she made him stop.

"Wait. I have something I wish to do first," she told Carlisle, his brows raised in surprise. He nodded, smiling benignly, and let her down. She could feel him behind her, stronger than tensile steel, surrounding her, enthralling her, sending her nerves scattering like feathers on the wind. She opened the door, onto a room upholstered in blue silk and mahogany, the windows letting in light from the still early afternoon, the sun not yet begun its descent into its watery bed. Not stopping to think, she paced across the room to Edward's sofa, which served as a resting place when he wished to recline, and laid her bouquet upon one of the arms.

"I never got to throw him my bouquet," she explained, remembering with a smile, Edward's hasty departure. Carlisle chuckled and hugged her back against him. Esme's breathing accelerated at the feel of his body against hers, now in truth belonging to her for all eternity, and felt the need begin to rise.

"It'll be his turn, one day," Carlisle whispered in her ear, his tone surprisingly husky. Esme turned her head to face him, letting him see all the emotion welling within her body. She felt his breath catch, and there were no need for words, as they left Edward's room, closing the door with a click.

In Carlisle's bedroom, the walls were a rich cream, the carpets of the same hue. But the bed, Esme noticed, was of bright gold and creamy ivory silks and satins, sensuous and inviting. Despite the fact that they never needed to sleep, Esme liked to lie on her bed, if only to think, and to relish the textures of the materials beneath her sensitive skin.

Carlisle had set her down in the very centre of the room, and she felt a shiver of anticipation start down her spine. Sensing him behind her, she slowly detached her veil and hair slides, placing them gently on a side table. She felt Carlisle's hands reach for the pins in her hair, and she let him draw them out, releasing the caramel splendour free from its bonds. It fell down over her shoulders, halfway down her back in loose curls, and Esme felt her skin melt as he ran his fingers through it reverently.

Eventually, after what felt like an age, she flicked her hair over her shoulder, so it tumbled over one side of her collarbone, leaving the other side of her neck exposed. The side he had bitten. The light graced the rounded swell of her perfect shoulders, the marblesque perfection of her neck and face. It sparkled, ever so slightly, but the sun was too weak to show its true beauty.

Carlisle stepped closer, and ran his hands over the exposed skin of her back, the tops of her shoulder blades showing above the white lace of her dress. He reached for the tiny pearl buttons keeping the dress together, and slowly undid them, moving up her body, until her glorious back was bare to his gaze. Unable to hold in his desperate need any longer, Carlisle glided his palms over her soft skin of her shoulder blades, and over her arms, holding her as he bent his head. His lips glided yearningly over her skin, following the same path of his hands, before he set her skin on fire with a hot, open-mouthed kiss in the hollow of her collarbone, close by the swell of her shoulder.

Esme relaxed back into his arms, arching her neck back, inviting his caresses. Her skin was heating by the moment, the unbearable need and desire becoming too strong to deny. Then she felt the tremors racking his body, subtle and almost unnoticeable, but close as she was she felt them. He ran the tip of his nose and his lips up the side of her face, breathing in the scent of her hair, appreciating the subtle nuances of jasmine and lily of the valley. Her eyes closed, and her lips parted, aching for his kiss. Carlisle's control was slipping by the moment, and Esme's body yearned for him, at last. But in a way, the fiery inchoate need scared her slightly. She wondered if it scared him also. For one moment, keeping the need at bay, he rested his head on her silken curls, and Esme grabbed her chance.

"Your hands are shaking." As indeed they were, encircling the tops of her arms with a compelling strength that made her dizzy. "Are you afraid?"

Carlisle didn't respond for a moment; sliding his hands down her arms to her wrists and back up again, as if memorizing the contours of her shape.

"No," he finally said, his voice low and rough with leashed desire. Esme relaxed against him again, closing her eyes in bliss at the simple feel of him pressed against her naked spine, where her dress gaped open. His hand caressed the tiny scars where he had bitten her neck, and she arched her head back, body positively screaming for his now. His hand turned her face around to meet his, as he admitted in a throaty whisper, "A little."

She turned sinuously in his arms, until they faced one another, and their lips met, nothing held back, nothing controlled. Pure desire let loose, at last.

Esme's hands glided into his hair, ruffling the previously neat golden waves, as she pulled herself against him. Carlisle groaned, as their tongues met and duelled with abandon, inciting each other's wildest passions. His hands moved from grasping her shoulders, to encircling her in his arms, holding her even closer, as they kissed passionately.

He walked her backwards, towards the bed, and they gracefully fell onto it, their limbs fitting together like a key in a lock. Carlisle's hand fell to tracing her spine beneath the silk of her dress, pulling her up against him. She moaned, and broke from his lips, arching her head, asking for his kisses on her skin. He obliged, trailing a hot, yearning path down her neck, shifting against her. She gasped and arched, hands searching between them for the buttons of his shirt. She noted, with satisfaction, that he had already stripped to his shirt. She tore it open, not caring that the buttons went flying, only stopping to breathe once she had her hands on the stony planes of his chest. Except they didn't feel stony to her, they were like soft silk against her palms. The need only grew, like a river bursting its banks, and suddenly Esme knew nothing beyond the need to have him inside her. For all eternity.

Carlisle's hands peeled the gown from her shoulders and arms, drawing it down her body. Esme only shivered and lay back, passive under his gaze as he swept it down her body. Unable to bear Carlisle's gaze any longer, Esme slipped his shirt from his shoulders, delighting in the feel of the tense muscles beneath her hands. The inchoate need was building to breaking point, fiery incandescent light swelling beneath their diamond hard skin, glittering in the shafts of sunlight penetrating the windows.

Esme's eyes roamed Carlisle's body, taking in the sculpted musculature, the granite hard planes of flesh and muscle long frozen in impenetrable crystalline skin. Her eyes finally met his once more; and she caught her breath at the breathtaking, fractured gold of his eyes, burning with devotion. Their lips rejoined frantically, Esme arching her head back against the pillows. She felt his hands drift down, his fingers trailing down the sides of her body possessively, bending her legs at the knee. Their eyes met when they broke from the other's lips, compulsion the only thing remaining in their fevered brains.

There was no holding back, no reticence or shyness, only overwhelming desire, consuming passion as their lips met again at the same moment he drove deep into her body, claiming her for his own. Esme arched against the burgeoning ache deep within, at the very core of her being. Carlisle had come to rest so deeply within her; it felt like he had touched her heart. Her stone heart, unable to beat, which belonged to him and only him, and had done since she was sixteen. Now she was his in truth for all eternity.

Carlisle's lips wrenched from hers to caress her neck, and as she gasped, and gave up altogether. Gave herself up to him, forever.

Hours later, when dawn reached its pink tendrils across the now inky black sky, they stopped. Esme snuggled into Carlisle's side, when he withdrew from her, sated and replete, and his arms came around her, fingers stroking up and down her shoulder soothingly. She felt his lips on her hair, and looking up, smiled.

"I love you. Thank you for saving me,"

"Anytime. I love you too, Esme. For all eternity," Carlisle replied, kissing her gently, before need overtook them once more, and he rolled her beneath him.

The need would always be there, just like the thirst, the latter a bane, the former highly desirable, an integral part of their existence. A desire Carlisle and Esme knew they would feel for eternity.

_**The end**_


End file.
